


Leather-Bound Bond

by hiddenoptimist



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Really cute, bookshop au, kind of, my favourite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenoptimist/pseuds/hiddenoptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shyla enters her favourite bookshop, nothing should be different. But who is the mysterious boy that keeps reading her favourite books?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather-Bound Bond

The bell tinkled overhead as I pushed open the door to the antiquated bookshop. This was my favourite place, a little cluttered shop down a seemingly empty London alleyway. The alleyway itself was filled with other shops too; there was a jewellers' that sold old-fashioned necklaces and encrusted brooches, a clock maker, a beautiful little café and a photography studio. The bookshop was my favourite though.

The air was heavy, as though weighed down by the thousands of tales the shop contained. I nodded to the owner, an elderly man who sat behind the desk with a different book in his hand each day. On my way past, I picked up a bookmark from the box by the till. There was only one rule in this shop, and that was to never leave a book open with the pages facing down. It made a mess of the spine, and since almost all of the books were old already, the pages would begin to flutter out.

I headed through the shelves, seeking out the lounge at the back. It was dimmer through here, the light streaming through the front window unable to penetrate the gloom this far back. The area was lit by lamps with beaded cords to switch them on and off; there was one next to each of the comfortable, worn armchairs. I dug out one of my favourite books,  _Oliver Twist_ , and settled down to read in the silence.

In the past, I'd spent hours here, but with my upcoming exams I'd had less and less time to read. This was the first time I'd returned in a while, and I'd missed it. The pages of my book were frail, this particularly edition having been printed in the 1960s, and I was extra careful while reading, though I did enjoy the crackling noise the pages made as I turned them.

I was thoroughly engrossed in the story when I heard the faint tinkling of the bell. It wasn't important, there were a few other people who knew of the bookshop, but I was curious all the same. Pretending to focus on the printed words, I peeked over the top of the book at the new arrival.

It was a boy, about my age, wearing skinny jeans and a graphic t-shirt. I recognised him as being on TV, but I couldn't name him. As I watched, he brushed a hand through his hair and headed over to the bookshelf I had gone to. He was searching for a longer time than I'd expected, but maybe he was just looking for something new to read. I turned the page idly, my attention drawing back to the written world.

When he returned, dropping into the chair next to mine with another Dickens novel,  _Bleak House_ , I cast a sneaky glance over at him. He had his feet tucked underneath his legs, the book resting on his lap as he turned the pages, bookmark held loosely in one hand. I watched him until he glanced up at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room, then quickly turned my attention to my own book.

An hour had passed quicker than I realised. Both the boy and I were still seated in our chairs. As I got up to leave, almost late for my lecture, he glanced up, gnawing gently on the knuckle of his right forefinger. I waved to the owner as I left, the bell tinkling over my head as the door softly swung shut behind me.

The next time I managed to visit the bookshop was a week later, after one of my practices. I had taken a dance course this year, and had greatly underestimated the amount of work I had to do for it. On this particular day, I had come straight from the studio, pausing only to let my hair out of the bun it was usually trapped in and letting it curl naturally down my back. The leggings I wore became stuck to my skin as it started to rain, so I hurried down the alley and into the bookshop.

The owner chuckled and handed me a towel as I stepped inside. "You're not the only one brave enough to come in today," he said, sitting back in his chair.

I noticed the towel was already slightly damp, but I dried my hair and body with it anyway, leaving my jumper on the hook by the door. It had seemed like an alright day that morning, so I hadn't bothered with an actual jacket. I handed back the towel and made my way through the shelves to where I'd left  _Oliver Twist_  last week.

I spotted it on the shelf straight away and reached for it. My hand brushed against someone else's and I drew back, startled. I hadn't even noticed the boy from last week looking further down the shelf. From his expression, I would guess that he hadn't noticed me either. He chuckled and held out his hand.

"You take it," he said, gesturing to the book. "You were reading it last week, I saw."

"It's fine," I said, waving his hand away. "I've read it before. You take it."

He chuckled again. "Alright, if you insist. What are you going to read?"

"Don't worry, I'll find something," I smiled. "Haven't been to the romance section in a while."

As he picked up the book, I wandered around to the 19th century romance shelves. I rarely came here, but it was nice every now and again to pick up a book that documented the lives of the Victorian upper class instead of the lower class. The boy was sitting in the same armchair he'd occupied last week, but this time he smiled at me as I passed him to get to my own seat. He nodded questioningly at my book and I waved the copy of  _Emma_  that I'd picked up.

"What's that one about?" he asked quietly.

"A girl that marries off her friends without ever marrying herself," I replied, opening the cover. "I started it before, but I think I'll give it another go."

We sat in a comfortable silence for an hour, only the ticking of the clock and the turning of the pages between us. Occasionally I would glance over to where he was seated. Our chairs were close enough for me to reach over and touch him, if I wanted. After the clock struck two, he stood up and shelved his book.

"When will you be back?" he asked, stopping in front of my chair on the way past.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Whenever I have some free time, I guess."

He nodded and waved goodbye. I watched him until he disappeared from sight, then heard the tinkle of the bell a moment later. I crossed my ankles a little tighter as my gaze drifted back to my book, wondering why he'd asked.

For the next couple of times I went into the bookshop, the boy was there. He would always sit in the same chair next to me and we'd maybe talk a bit about the books, or he'd just smile as I walked in. I found myself becoming more and more comfortable around him, despite the fact that we didn't even know each other's names.

That changed the sixth time we met in the bookshop. I had finished  _Emma_ , and was looking for another book to read, when I was tapped on the shoulder. When I turned, he was there, a book tucked under his arm. He was wearing his glasses today, with his fringe down. Most of the time he'd worn contacts and had his hair set into a quiff, or at least messed up a little with gel, but I liked his fringe brushing into his eyes. He smiled, his eyes crinkling as he did so.

"I don't even know your name," he said, glancing away from me. He held out his hand. "I'm Louis."

"Shyla," I replied, taking his hand and squeezing gently. His smile grew.

"That might possibly be the best name I have ever heard." He waited until I'd chosen a book, then walked with me to the armchairs. "What have you got today?"

" _Jane Eyre_ ," I replied, showing him the cover. "You?"

" _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ ," he told me, waiting until I was seated before sitting down himself. "Um, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to the café with me afterwards? If you're not busy, that is."

I smiled. "I'd love to."

Louis matched my smile with more enthusiasm. "Great! So, say in an hour, or something?"

I nodded and crossed my ankles. Today, I rested the book on the armrest closest to him and leant towards him slightly more than usual. He seemed to be inclining towards me as well, looking up at the clock every couple of minutes and glancing over at me when he thought I wasn't looking. To be honest, I was kind of excited. I'd found someone who shared my love of this bookshop and this alleyway in general, something that was rare in anyone I hadn't introduced to it.

The hour passed slower than usual, the ticking seemingly eternal. I tried not to focus on the time, but it was also hard to concentrate on the book when my mind was spinning around the possibilities of what could happen on the way to the café. The building could be set on fire, a meteor could fall from space and knock me out, we could be mugged, aliens could invade-

"Um, Shyla?"

I looked up, blinking. Louis was standing in front of me, smiling while biting the corner of his lips at the same time. It was possibly the cutest thing I'd ever seen him do. He had already shelved his book. I looked past him to the clock, and was surprised to find my worst scenario planning had taken up most of the time left.

"It's been an hour, do you want to go now?" Louis asked, rocking backwards on his heels.

I nodded and got up to put my book back. He waited until I was ready, then held open the door for me and we walked to the café. It was surprisingly busy, but we managed to find a booth next to the window. Louis asked what I wanted, then went up to the counter to order it. I sat back and watched the people hurrying around on the main street. It began to rain, and I watched the droplets run down the window pane.

"I got your tea," Louis said, sitting down opposite me and curling his hands around his cup. "What are you looking at?"

"Just the rain," I replied, sipping at the drink he'd brought me.

"It is pretty," he agreed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small group of girls whispering excitedly to one another and glancing in our direction every couple of seconds. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and turned back to the window, believing if I stopped looking at them I'd forget they were staring at us. My plan didn't work, as I could still feel their eyes on the back of my neck. When I next looked round, they were coming over. Louis was watching them with a small smile.

"Hi," the closest one said, being pushed forward slightly by her friends. "Can we, um, can you sign my shirt?"

I watched as Louis obliged, taking the marker that was offered to him and making polite conversation with the girls. One girl got a picture taken on her phone and she murmured to herself as she tweeted it: "Just met Louis Tomlinson." I settled back, content with knowing where I'd recognised him from.

When the girls had left, Louis looked back at me with a sheepish smile. I sipped at my tea and smiled back at him. "I knew I recognised you," I said, placing the cup back on the saucer.

"I didn't want you to think of me as famous," he explained. "Most people wouldn't have expected me to be in a bookshop either."

"Or reading Dickens?" I giggled, leaning back and pressing my foot against his leg.

He grinned and half-shrugged. "Guilty pleasure, I guess. You're not mad then?"

"For what? Not telling me you're in a world-famous boyband? No. But you can pay, oh rich one."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

After his revelation, we chatted and finished our tea. It became almost a tradition, meeting at the bookshop, reading for a while, then going for a drink in the café. It continued at least once a week, usually after one of my classes. We'd been doing it for a couple of months when Louis leaned over the table in the café one day and took my hand.

"Uh-oh," I smiled, trying to make him smile. He looked more depressed than anything else. "Doesn't look good."

"It's not." He sighed and sat up straighter. "I have to go on tour. I won't be back for a couple of months."

"So I won't have anyone to read with?" I asked. Now I was depressed. I enjoyed Louis' company.

He smiled sadly. "Yeah. But I'll call you. Everyday, if you want. We can read to each other over the phone, or Skype or something."

I laughed. "You're putting more effort into keeping contact with me than with your girlfriend."

He shrugged guiltily. "Maybe I like you more than her. Anyway, I don't have your number." He pushed a napkin in my direction, watching as I wrote down my number. When I pushed it back, he folded it up and slipped it into his pocket.

***

I held my coat over my head and hurried through the street. Los Angeles was busy even in the rain. I'd won a dancing competition and had travelled halfway across the world to participate in the final, which was tomorrow. My idea of walking around the city had gone wrong when the rain clouds had arrived and pellet sized raindrops began to hit the pavement. Quickly, I ducked into the nearest open doorway I saw.

A bell tinkled above the door. Hanging my coat on the nearest hook, I looked around and found myself surrounded by books. Immediately, I felt more at home. The large letters printed on the window read 'THE LAST BOOKSHOP'.

I began to wander through the shelves. The smell of the books relaxed me and I ran my finger along the spine as I walked along. Somehow, I found myself in the D section.

A book halfway down the shelf caught my eye.  _Oliver Twist_. I couldn't help but smile. It reminded me of the first time I'd met Louis. We'd called each other constantly over the past few months, but I hadn't told him about the competition. I hadn't wanted him to get my hopes up, like I knew he would, only for me to lose.

I reached for the book and my hand bumped into someone else's. Surprised, I drew back, only to find a familiar pair of blue eyes twinkling at me. Louis picked up the book and handed it to me.

"Boo," he said, biting his lip. "I didn't know you were coming to Los Angeles?"

I shrugged. "Dance competition."

"Did you win?"

"It's tomorrow. I only arrived this morning, and it's already started raining." I took the book from him and clasped his hand instead. "You didn't tell me you were in LA either."

"I didn't think it would matter, it's not like I knew we could meet up or anything." He stretched out his arms. "Can I have a hug?"

I smiled and complied, wrapping my arms tight around his torso. He rested his cheek on top of my head and smiled against my hair.

"I missed you," he murmured, drawing back. "I missed having someone to read with."

"Me too," I agreed. "It's not been the same in the bookshop when you're not there."

"Well," Louis said, looking around, "we're in a bookshop now. Why don't we find some books and sit down?"

We picked our books - I had  _Oliver Twist_  and he picked  _The Fellowship of the Ring_  - and found a few beanbags in a quiet area. I curled up on one, watching as Louis kicked another closer to mine and sat down. We read together in silence, though I was painfully aware of his closeness to me.

We both made to turn a page at one point and knocked elbows. I glanced up at him bashfully, only to find his expression mimicking mine. He smiled shyly and bumped my elbow with his again. We kept up at this game, still reading as we went, until he gave up and took hold of my wrist.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as he manipulated my hand into holding his.

"Holding your hand, silly," he replied, sticking his tongue out at me before going back to his book.

My gaze lingered on the point of contact between us until I looked back to the printed words on the page. One word stood out more than the rest: friends.


End file.
